this thing
by doc100
Summary: An introspective piece written in response to a challenge. It's about 'this thing' that Harm and Mac had.


**this thing** by doc

_**AN 1:** This is my answer to the January 2007 HBX Fanfiction Challenge._

_I wasn't quite sure what to do with this month's challenge lines. My first thought was a dream sequence or a nightmare scene. But Carrie and usmgrad have already humorously graced us with that bit of fun. Then the other night, I was reading some poetry when 'inspiration' struck. Well at least the poetry was inspiring…I don't know about my idea! So please indulge me in the borrowing of some well-known prose and atypical grammatical syntax. This is a bit of a deviation for me and I hope the experiment works…I rather hate nursing scabs from a fall._

_This story takes place during the Season 10 episode 'Death At A Mosque.' As a reminder, this is the episode where Mac goes to visit Harm in the hospital after Mattie's accident, and he turns her away. _

_**AN 2: **All published poetry appears in 'italics,' giving humble credit, where awe-inspiring credit is due. The text in **'bold'**…is the **'speaking' of two hearts**. The plain text paragraphs within the story alternate between his thoughts and hers._

_Special thanks to Mom, my faithful finder and keeper of all things related to spelling and grammar._

_Disclaimers and credits: I don't own JAG or any of the characters. I just take them out and play with them on occasion before replacing them safe and sound back on the shelf. The stirring poetic prose** '**_**i carry your heart with me'** was written by e. e. cummings.

**this thing**

…it whispers on the wind calling to my heart with a tender silence more deafening than the loudest clanging of a bell…

"Don't!" A simple but declarative word defining an action. But…

**silence**

He sent me away. I sit here in the hospital's atrium garden, among the roses, contemplating his words. "Don't…Mac, don't." I know he didn't mean to hurt me. He just needed some space. I've been there myself…in that lonely place that rests between strength and despair. Between mere hopelessness and sheer surrender to your demons. Desperately trying, against all odds, to hold it together for just one more day…an hour…a moment. But if he'd let me in, I would tell him one thing…just one. Alone doesn't work. Alone is just…well, alone. I swear when I sit here quietly, concentrating with all my being on that sanctuary in my heart. That one place reserved only for communing with him…I can sense him. He calls…

**sarah …**

I don't know why I sent her away. I've been sitting here for the last few days wishing…praying for her presence. Her strength. There was a time when we just knew. No calls…no words…no phone. We just knew the other was beckoning…in need…in friendship…in…. That special something that we just had… HAVE! I have to believe it still exists!

**… harm?**

He used to tell me that he always knew where I was…somehow he sensed it. If pressed further, he couldn't explain…a hunch…a whim…a feeling. He just knew. He came. Uncle Matt…my stalker…10,000 feet under in the sea. Paraguay!

**i need you …… i know**

I once told her that the other people in our lives couldn't get past 'this thing' between us. I'm not sure what 'this thing' is…but I know that it's real…alive. I can feel it as the warmth of the sun on my face. Hear it…a voice beckoning on the wind. Crave it like the air that I breathe. I need it to sustain me…to survive…to live. 'This thing'…this sixth sense…against all odds, she finds me. My rescuer. Russia…my father…my brother. My life…a swirling storm-tossed sea. This thing!

**help me …… always**

He's always been there for me…and I for him. Well, that was until the fallout after Paraguay. One tiny word…five little letters. Never. I didn't mean it…I was just so tired. So alone. He came for me…gave me back my life. His career. But he couldn't give me the one thing I wanted most. His heart. It wasn't until weeks later, when he'd walked out of my life that I understood. His heart was there for my taking. Funny thing is…I didn't want to take it. TAKE IT! As if it were a reward…a hard fought victory won. I wanted it to be given. Liberally, free of choice, without asking. One shouldn't be forced to ask for love. I didn't want his surrender or my own. I wanted us both to give…to love together…as one. Sometimes I can't make sense out of this thing we have...we're not together but we can't let go. We've shared more than most married folks share in a lifetime. Tears…fears. Hopes and dreams. This thing we have. We can't walk away. My heart…his…ours! Two lives…one heart…one soul. THIS THING!

**where are you …… waiting for you**

When she said that dreadful word down in that South American hellhole, I thought I would die. Never. Sadik and his henchmen couldn't have done worse. Never. We're never going to work out. Never share a life. Never experience the intimacy and rapture of love. Never have that little boy with her smile or the girl with my eyes. NEVER. So, I walked away…tried to rid her from my life. I learned to live with never. As in, never return a phone call…never write a note…never darken her doorstep. Sever all ties. Or so I thought. She called it right in that hotel room…we can't move forward, but we can't back away. I couldn't forget her. I tried, I was condescending and snide…I fought back. I threw her weaknesses in her face…as if her triumphs held no merit. All the while trying to hide my own…her, my Sarah. But then she did the unthinkable…Mattie. She gave me that little girl…alright, so she didn't have my eyes, but she did have Mac's spunk. She said that I was the kind of man she wanted to be the father of her children. THE KIND OF MAN. I wanted to be THE man. That's when I realized that NEVER isn't nearly as long as forever. Never can become ETERNITY in the blink of an eye. Forever trumps never…always. As in 'this thing' between us will always exist. This thing between us. This thing. I can't explain it. THIS THING!

**two alone …… together one**

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in_

_my heart)i am never without it(anywhere_

_i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done_

_by only me is your doing,my darling)_

_i fear_

_no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want_

_no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)_

**i can't find you …… i'm here**

When I tried to run away…turn to others, in frustration…in hurt. It never worked. NEVER. Funny how that word goes both ways. It never worked because my heart wasn't there. My heart was claimed by a sailor, in a rose garden…long ago. Well, maybe not quite then, but close. He walked in all 'spit and polish' dressed in blue. Freshly medaled and standing proud. That look…THOSE EYES. Those eyes…that change color like the sea…blue, green, gray…turbulence, peace. Those eyes that hold all emotions in their depths…intensity, resignation, sadness, joy, hatred, passion…love. THOSE EYES. They send chills down my spine. I tried to close him out. I TRIED! I'm well acquainted with what happens when you let people in…let them get too close. They walk away. THEY LEAVE. They leave with barely a backwards glance. We've both tried to walk away a time or two. He to the sea…to the air in flight. Me to bright lights…other men. He's tried others too. But it doesn't work, we can't stay away. Always, we came back, always…like a ship to the shore or a moth to the flame. He shines too bright…my beacon, my lure. I once asked him if he would always be there…always. "Yes." Such a simple word. YES! Always there, in my life…in my heart. ALWAYS. This thing.

**i can't see you …… follow my voice**

I realized too late…she needed to hear the words. Words. Why does she need words…can't she hear my heart's song? Don't actions speak louder than words? I bow my head in shame…sometimes my actions contradict. Why can't I say them? Words…they have such a profound effect. I'm a lawyer I should know. I make a living by my words. Yet, when it comes to her…I can't say them, this thing. Past conversations rush undeterred through my mind. Words…words of encourage, of hurt…hidden meanings. "Can't let go…Not yet." "Come to me…What would you give up?" "I think you know why." "You can have him…Never." "You'll just screw it up." "I can't…Let me know when you're ready." "I'm still here…we both are." "Don't, Mac…Let me know when you need me." The words. For years we've shared WORDS. What we haven't shared is understanding. We listen to the words…but we don't hear the meaning. WE DON'T HEAR. This thing.

**i can't hear you …… follow my touch**

I can sense him here with me. I can feel his touch…his fingers caressing my heart. We've touched, really touched, only a handful of times. And each time, it's as if we've been burned. The Rose Garden…the Admiral's porch…the dining out…my hospital room. There's this spark…an overwhelming connection, enjoyable and FRIGHTENING all the same. So unexpected, coveted…wanted…FEARED. It's as if we know…one touch, a light caress…it will consume us…burn us whole. Maybe that's why he sent me away. He can't afford to be distracted in his task. I never realized. It's an amazing thing to hold such power over another. Power to crush…to burn…to consume. This heroic flyboy…this brave sailor. He commands a missile in flight, destroys the enemy in his wake, stares down evil with nary a flinch. But this extraordinary legend of a man has an Achilles heel…one fatal flaw. This Man. This Champion…Conqueror…Larger-than-Life Hero. THIS MAN. This honorable gentleman…nay, my gentle man…is fragile at his core. He defensively wields his shield of actions…afraid words will expose his fear. Love has the power to strengthen…or to break. He has lost in love, as well. Maybe that's his greatest fear. If he loves, truly loves with all his heart…they will leave…not just leave, DIE. Those chosen few…those honored with his love…they take their leave in death. And here he stands poised to lose yet another. So how can he bare to let me in? Destiny. Providence. Fate…this thing…two hearts bound as one. I've been charged with the keeping of his heart. His heart is mine…and mine is his. This thing. This thing, my heart in him must show to his that love doesn't have to hurt. Love can be gentle in its touch. Quiet as the breeze…gossamer as a butterfly's wing…soft as the kiss of an angel. In the past, we've both waged our love in grand gestures, heroic acts and mighty words. We've never let the quietness…the gentle peace of love prove its worth. The silent entreaties of the heart bear witness far stronger then any loud clanging of a bell. This thing we have…this thing…it speaks. Can you hear it? Me? Hear my heart's silent oath…it offers strength, comfort…REFUGE. SANCTUARY…a safe haven in the storm. Follow my heart…it is your own.

**i can't feel you …… follow my heart**

I sit here staring into the room of a child who has claimed my heart as her own. Once again, I am about to be cheated by love. Left alone. What was it I told her? She needed to get better because she still had so much to do…"Go to college, fall in love, have babies...live." Fall in Love…Have Babies…LIVE. That's some mantra. Perhaps it's a bit hypocritical, seeing as I've allowed those same goals to elude me. I always thought there would be more time. More time. More time for what, I don't know? Flying? A romanticized pipe dream to reclaim my past…or maybe it was my father's legacy. Career? That holds little comfort when the one you love most is in danger halfway around the world. Jobs come and go. I should know; I've had enough of them. Pilot…lawyer…pilot…lawyer…operative…lawyer. My résumé reads like a glowing endorsement for how best to scuttle your career. I guess it was all that time I spent being ruled by my emotions. Emotions…ha! Funny both Mac and the Admiral should use the same phrase. And I can't refute their assessment; in fact, I have to agree. But, if I'm ruled by my emotions…vis-a-via my heart…how is it I'm condemned for not letting go? Isn't that an oxymoron of sorts? By supposition, if you allow your heart to run roughshod over your judgment…toss away your career mindless of the consequence…fly across the word and defy death to rescue someone you love…haven't you let go? LET GO. Two more WORDS. Words that are synonymous with surrender…abandon…release…LIBERATE. Liberate…to free. That's the power Sarah has over me. She once accused me of only showing interest when she has one foot out the door. She couldn't be more wrong! My interest never fades…never. And that NEVER she can take to the bank. It's just that when she's close my fear of being hurt by love transcends my fear of losing her. Alright, I'll admit that doesn't make much sense, even to me. If I can't open my heart and accept love, than I'll never be free. Free of fear. Free of loss. Free to experience…to be loved and secure. Safe. This thing. This thing, it's the gift that Sarah bequeaths to me and I to her…an asylum from fear…a retreat from loss…shelter. This amazing woman…this Rescuer of my soul. This thing we have…unites us as one…in support…in love. I need only follow my heart…for it rests in her.

In a desperate search for her calming solace, I start down the hall beckoned by the call of this thing…this whisper of her heart to mine. I pause at elevator contemplating the stairs, seeking the quickest path to her…my sanctuary from the storm that threatens to swallow me whole. The elevator doors open…

**why are you here …… i think you know**

His heart summons mine…as clearly as if he'd spoken the words. When the doors open, I'm not the least surprised to find him waiting there. I extend my arms in invitation…in welcome…in support. He remains quiet, still, reflective. Never utters a word, but I hear the question all the same.

Why are you here?

He knows why…I'm tempted to utter those very words, but I swallow them back before they escape. He extends an arm…a hand…a palm. Keeping me at a distance? Arm's length as it were? Or drawing me in? What…what do you want? Tell me what you need? My brow rises in question. We communicate with eyes and expressions and feelings…NO WORDS. Words are not necessary now. The heart does not speak with words.

His hand gently touches my chest. Fingertips first…then fingers…then palm. Searching. Finding the beat of my heart. This thing. No spoken word…we communicate with touch. I know what he needs…what he wants. He calls to my heart…making sure that it's me.

**why are you here …… where else would i be**

My hand reaches out in like kind. Touching…caressing…reassuring. It's me. Your comfort, your safety, your bulwark…a haven of calm. This thing. It's me. My heart answers his call. When I feel the galloping beat of his heart slow to match the cadence of mine own, I allow my hand to slip lower around his side.

What are you doing? His eyes open wide asking for more.

My heart whispers back…calling you home.

Why? The furrows of worry beg for reply.

**why …… i love you**

I draw him slowly into my arms. Body against body…soft planes against hard. Chest to chest. Heart touching heart, now perfectly aligned…commune as one. This thing…this thing. It speaks…it's love.

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows_

_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_

_and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows_

_higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)_

_and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

_i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)_

_The End_

_**AN:** Wow, that was harder than I thought. I think I'm missing my sappy Rabb family, already. As I noted above, the poem by e. e. cummings was the inspiration for this piece. It was the final scene that I envisioned when I started writing, but beyond that…this story had a mind of its own! It even painfully forced me to change my original title. I was going to call it** 'the weight of the stars'** based the poem. I still love that title by the way, but the story insisted on calling itself **'this thing.'** I even tried to combine the two but no dice…it wasn't having it. The first half wrote itself fairly easily, but the middle third about killed me. I've never had so much trouble writing a story before…maybe that's because it isn't really a story. I'm not sure what it is? Anyways, I feel like I've just given birth or undergone surgery without anesthesia. I hope you enjoyed my musings. I guess I better brave the snow now and go out and buy those band-aids! Thanks for reading._

_**References:**_

'_**i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)'**, e. e. cummings, **95 Poems**, 1958._


End file.
